


I know him

by thoughtfullyyoungduck



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Gen, M/M, Oc is scared of small spaces and in the beginning is stuck in the elevator, brief vomiting mention, curse words (a few), reddie as parents, stan's alive by the way, that isn't a big plot point just wanted to say that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24151675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtfullyyoungduck/pseuds/thoughtfullyyoungduck
Summary: When an elevator mishap lends Emma to meet Pennywise, she has no idea that the stories he tells her actually happened. She neglects to tell her parents and it's not until their old terror inducing nightmare is mentioned in conversation that Emma reveals she knows who IT is.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie and daughter, Richie and daughter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	I know him

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!

The old elevator scared her for as long as she could remember, it’s old doors creaking and closing leisurely, and the inside of it coated in a filthy substance that your dad avoided at all costs and urged you to do the same. Many horror story that roamed the building hallways originated from said moving lift, endless cases of people getting stuck in there and injuring themselves, some minor wounds, some majors.

In one particular case, a man from apartment block B4 broke his hand while trying to escape the grimy space, reaching for help outside of the lift only to have the doors ruthlessly crushing his bones, inducing agony so severely that he had to have his hand amputated.

Or another one during which a woman found herself trapped in it’s confinements while a thunderstorm was happening, and ended up electrocuting and dying before morning dawn.

It’s possible that Richie made those story’s up however, and Emma is the first one to admit that her pops does have a track record of pulling pranks on her, but there is a sliver of truth behind the stories.

Several people reported the elevator for malfunctioning, and the tenant always promised to fix the issue, but he never did, and so the thing continued to be a problem. Emma rarely used it, and if she happened to make use of it’s services, she made she was always accompanied by someone who could help in case of an emergency.

June twentieth though, she returned home from school, secretly excited about the prospect of being on her own for the evening, as Richie and Eddie were going out on a date to celebrate their anniversary, and she already imagined all the junk food she bought and would eat throughout the night, when she stumbled upon a problem.

The apartment Richie, Eddie and her lived on was located at the top floor, the furthest away from the prying eyes of the public, in lieu of their future home being renovated, which meant that taking the stairs was a painstaking chore that left her drained of all energy by the time she made it up.

Normally, she occupied the escalator anyway, but she slipped and twisted her ankle at school that morning, and despite it not hurting too bad, Emma figured that using the elevator was still the better call, so her ankle had time to rest.

She hesitated only briefly, before confidently walking in the lift, and pressing the bottom for the eight-floor. Emma tried to make light off the situation, using humor the way Richie had thought her, telling herself that she better take a large gulp of air, just in case the door refused to open again once they slid shut.

‘I got this I got this I got this’, she murmured to herself, psyching herself up before panic overtook her. Using the elevator was an irrational fear she had, and no amount of times riding helped any good in overcoming it. Realistically, the worst thing that could happen was that she locked in, waiting until a neighbor also needed to use the elevator and noticed that someone was in there, then effectively helping her out, but the thought of spending even five minutes with no way out gave her chills, so she suppressed that thought and waited patiently until the lift moved up.

Only it didn’t. The doors latched shut, but no movements upwards preceded. Clearing her throat, Emma hit the floor number again, rationalizing that she pressed the number too soft to be registered, but the eight lit up and yet again no movement took place.

Emma laughed antsy, breathing in and out deeply, still convincing herself that everything was fine, and a firmer hand was needed to get the lift moving, but when nothing happened, she hurriedly thumbed the open button.

With a screeching sound, the doors began to open, wide enough that tears welt up in Emma’s eyes from relief, but then the doors unfolded just enough to see through them into the open hall, not big enough for Emma’s form to fit through, and then shut again.

Terror infiltrated every pore of her being, rendering her a anxiety riddled mess, her breathing shaking too much to properly inhale. Black spots danced on the edge of her vision, becoming faint enough that Emma stumbled backwards and had to grip the railing bar tight in order not to fall.

The temperature read 35° degrees Celsius, the room hot enough that sweat drops formed on Emma’s forehead, and she lost her cool, her mind conjuring up the worst case scenarios.

She repeatedly pushed the open button, wheezing fresh air in the nik of time, while begging to whoever was listening to save her from this mess. Changing tactics, Emma attacked the alarm bell, but then over-analyzed that too. She had no clue whether or not she was supposed to hold it for a longer period of time, or release it and attempt multiple times.

A phone that connected to the main office was also present, and when Emma perceived that, she lunged for it and held it to her ear as close as possible.

‘Hello, please help me’, her voice cracked, ’I’m stuck.’ Nothing but static greeted her, no person on the other line to help her or comfort her, no help on the way.

The tears began bolstering down her cheeks then, a single one leading the way for many others once the dam was finally broken. In spite of not receiving an answer, Emma repeated the same word over and over again anyway, unable to think of any other way out.

She feared that if she kept opening the door, that that too would stop working, and then the heat building would suffocate her. Or the elevator may crash down, killing her instantly, or starvation and dehydration would take her out before anyone finds her and saves her. The fears may sound un-rational, but to Emma they were very real, and she worked herself up into a near panic attack.

‘Please, please, please, I want my parents’, she continues to sob, hoping against all hope that someone apprehends her message.

Her prayers seemed to have been answered when a white glove creeps through the elevator slot, the fingers wiggling back and forth.

‘Take my hand Emma, I’ll help you out.’

Inhibitions aside, Emma allowed said hand to wrap around her wrist, and urged her closer to the edge of the lift, another gloved hand pushing the lift apart and jerking her through. Ignoring the way the stranger somehow knew her name and the way she was lucky she wasn’t crushed by the doors, Emma heaves down on the ground, her painful ankle all forgotten.

The jitters in her body making her stand on shaky legs until she dropped down on her knees. Lunch had already processed most likely, as she couldn’t hurl up anything solid, but a bad taste lingered in her mouth lingers in her mouth regardless.

When the last flow leaves her, Emma sits back, still on the ground, her hands buried in her hair to ground herself.

‘You’re out, you’re okay, you’re fine,’ she reassures herself, refraining from rocking back and forth.

For the first time, Emma glanced upwards to look at the person who saved her. The man, if she could call it that, wore a clown suit, completed with a face caked full of make-up. She inched away from him when their eyes connected, certain that the eyes that stared back were yellow, but upon second glance, she notices they were blue, just like her pops.

‘hmm, are you alright there? You look a bit shaken up’, the man grinned with his teeth visible, yellow and sharp on top while his tongue licked over them like he was hungry. He creeped Emma out, but he did rescue her, so Emma felt obligated to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Thank you’, she breathed out, the tears in her eyes running dry. He extended a hand out to her, and she took it, pulling herself upright and shaking the nerves off of her.

‘Who are you?’

‘My names Pennywise the dancing clown,’ he giggled in a weird, unsettling tone, ‘you really should refrain from using that lift, I heard it’s,’ he paused and winked at her, ‘scare inducing.’

‘Right,’ Emma trailed off, the polite smile on her face never fading away. ‘Oh wait, you’re a circus performer right? I heard about it coming to town from one of the posters outside.’

At pennywise nod, Emma relaxed. Sure, he came across as frightening, but maybe that was just her imagination after the scare she had experienced, and it would provide a reason why he was dressed like that.

‘Yes yes’, he explained, ‘do you like the circus? Because I love it’, he twisted his body in a way that made bells go off, the smile on his face unusually large for his face. Speaking of which, his forehead was also massive.

‘Your fathers used to love the circus too.’ The admission sparked new interested within Emma, who perked up and listened to him with all her attention.

‘You knew my fathers?’ she asked, shaking off the worry that loomed in the back of her mind.

‘Why yes of course I do, we were all best friends, and we did so much fun things together. If you want, I’ll tell you all about it.’

Emma hesitated, she had never met this man, and he seemed to be sketchy, but at the same time her interests had been piqued, and she figured that the man wouldn’t have come to her aid if he had something malicious planned.

‘They lived in Derry, Eddie and Richie, and they have always been best friends. But the summer of 1989 was one they’ll never forget.’

Emma frowned, neither her dad nor her pops had ever mentioned the summer of 1989, nor had they ever discussed any other people outside of the losers club, but if he knew their names were Eddie and Richie, there’s no way he hadn’t met them.

‘Ow yes, the summer their nightmares came to live right before their very eyes,’ his voice lilts up in a sing song sound, almost a mocking tone, and he belly laughs, as if the prospect of facing your fears was that funny to imagine.

Emma’s heart began to pound faster when the memories of the lift resurfaced, and she couldn’t phantom anyone laughing at that.

‘It all began with uncle Bills little brother….’

When Emma awoke, she was laying down on the sofa, her legs stretched over side so her feet were dangling. She lifted her head and scanned the room in confusion, blinking away the sleep from her eyes.

She would’ve swore that she had a conversation with a guy, but maybe that was a nightmare that she experienced a little too vividly. The talk was strange to begin with, anecdotes including murder, brutal attacks and near death experiences presented as something that really took place, something her family endured.

A quick search on the internet let Emma to believe that she saw a hallucination induced by her distress, and so she never mentioned anything to her fathers when they returned home from their date.

Perhaps the man had offered help to Emma, and he was uncanny enough that Emma dreamed about him after he left, but the conversation was all in her head and never had never come to pass.

The elevator was at full service again the next day, so she never informed Richie and Eddie of that either, feeling no need to rehash how irrational she behaved.

She adamantly fought tooth and nail to never step near the lift at any time, and since her parents were good at parenting, they accepted that with no questions asked, although Richie would huff and puff walking up and down the stairs, his old man bones creaking in protest changelessly.

\-----

‘Chug chug chug’, Bill chants, his hands balled in fist chomping down on the table as he viewed Richie gulping down his glass in one smooth sling.

‘I hate it here’, Stan rolls his eyes, downplaying the nearly there smile that graced his face upon hearing roared laughter.

Losers club meetings always brought a never seen amount of chaos and noise, causing them to be chucked out of restaurants more than once, but they’re never deterred. 

Stan advocated on multiple occasion to host the parties in one of their houses, but upon the suggestion of organizing one at his house, he backed down and dejectedly proposed a new restaurant they’re welcome at, for now.

This time, the choice alternated between a new Thai restaurant or a steak house that Richie tipped very generously for last time they visited, the new Thai place being a tad more inviting.

Emma loved losers meetings, because she always got to reconnect with her aunts and uncles, and also because the food was more than delicious.

She adored all the losers dearly, but the one she formed a special bond with was Mike, the history buff who knows more than Emma’s actual history teacher, and the one who somehow knows all the right words she must hear if she asks for advice.

The spot next to him is without fail the one chair that remains empty until she arrives, hanging off the tip of his tongue to hear about all the adventures he undergoes on his far off trips.

Today is no exception, Mike sitting on Emma’s left as she bolsters equally as loud as her uncles and aunts as liquid spills from the side of her pops’s face, staining the new shirt her dad recently bought and now belongs in the trash.

Eddie’s face is set in a scowl, as he thrusts out for a napkin and hands it over to Richie, who takes it with a smack kiss on the cheek as a romantic gesture Eddie repulses away from.

‘Dude, keep your disgusting bear filled lips the fuck away from me’, his face lighting up with a blush he tried but fails to suppress. His repulsion of germs decreases every day, but it’s not gone completely, the avoidance of touching the table with any skin proof.

‘Oh come on Eddie, it can’t possibly bother you that much, you married the guy’, Stan remarks, chuckling when Patty softy taps him on the arm.

A waiter pops his out from behind a wall, his face betraying nothing, but the murderous look in his eyes more than telling enough that this will be the last time they pop in this eatery. He refrains from saying anything though, walking away with a rigid back to no doubt complain to his coworkers about annoying table number five.

Thank god, they’ve only arrived an hour ago, and are still waiting on their food to come, and Emma is excited to try it.

‘Ben and I saw the circus in town two weeks ago,’ Bev steers the conversation in a different direction, bored with the current lack of anything but laughter.

The mention of the circus reminds Emma of the strange encounter that happened, the incubus she can recall in perfect detail. The duality of reality and fiction confusion her to this day. She’s pretty sure she dreamed the whole thing besides her being stuck, but then did Pennywise exists for real? And if not, then who helped her out?

The table turns abnormally quiet, so much so that it shocks Emma out of her thoughts. Stan’s face in particular drains of all color and he taps his fingers on the table to remain calm and collected, Patty scrutinizes his every move, but she is lost for how to react as well.

Ben sips his drink awkwardly, clearing his throat after and lacing his hand with Bev with a warning squeeze. Emma is a second away from asking what in the world is going on, but Richie’s got it covered.

‘Yeah, you saw any one familiar? Like a type of clown hoping we die gruesomely? It’s been a while huh I wonder how he’s doing these days.’

‘Richie’, Eddie hisses exasperated, motioning his head in Emma’s direction to remind Richie their daughter was still in the room with them.

Emma chortles at his joke, covering her mouth with her hand so that no piece of the chip she’s nibbling on accidentally lands on the table, the others following her lead easily. They remain at the edge of their seat, not yet settled, but Richie’s humor calmed them down enough that the tense atmosphere around the room fizzles out.

Emma, unthinkingly and mindlessly adds; ‘That someone happened to be named Pennywise?’

She continues to chuckle at her addition, right up to the point that a glass crack to her left, Ben’s glass splintered in tiny pieces on the floor as his big, shock filled eyes gawking at Emma as if she announced she’s pregnant.

The sound of glass relinquishing disturbs Emma’s laugh, the blast spooking her out of nowhere.

‘What? Her dad asks her pressed, and if she thought the losers looked keyed up before, the consternation they now display is in a whole different ballpark.

Trying to rail the topic back on track, Emma continues to jest the situation, reminiscing on the fictional things in her dream.

‘Yeah, you know Pennywise. The clown that transformed into your worst fears. Stan’s painting, pop’s clowns, dad’s gazebo’s, oh and of course we can’t forgot about breaking dad’s arm right.’

No one else laughs, all of them staring shell shocked ahead, unbeknownst to Emma thrusted back to the summer of hell. 

‘Emma,’ Richie address her, his palm rubbing across his chest on the left side, his heart burning with urgency to protect his daughter and his family without a second of hesitation.

Richie rarely uses her name in place of a nickname, so she drops the act and tunes out every other person and sound for the sake of paying attention to her pops.

‘Where did you hear all of that?’

A cold gust of winds breezes around the room, resulting in shivers that shake Emma’s whole body. All members of the losers club focus on her, awaiting her response to the question. Eddie and Richie in particular are most keen on finding out how their daughter somehow, without any of them telling, savvy traumatizing events of their youth.

‘I don’t know, a nightmare. Why is it so important?’ Emma inquires, enclosing her body with her arms in an effort to comfort herself.

‘A nightmare?’ Eddie clarifies, the intention behind his inquire not flying over her head.

‘Emma’, Mike interrupts to stop the impending flood of dread about to unleash over her before it even begins.

‘I know you know so much more than you’re letting on. I understands why this is scary, but it’s of the upmost important that you come clean now.’

Mike can read her better than a book, and that’s saying something for a librarian, so Emma gives in, overwhelming tears sticking to her eyelashes, the attention proving to be too much, begging anyone in the room to explain to her what’s going on.

‘The elevator got stuck in our apartment building, and this guy, Pennywise helped me out.’

‘Oh applejack,’ Richie exclaims, understanding now why she’s so resilient on trudging the escalator. Eddie scrambles up from his chair across from Emma’s seat, and tucking her away safely in his arms, her head underneath his chin.

‘it’s okay Ems, you’re safe, you’re fine.’ He soothes her, suppressing his own sobs at the knowledge that Pennywise had been this close to attacking his daughter, the light of his and Richie’s life. Richie joins him a moment later, pressing both Eddie and Emma close to him in spite of the difficult position they’re in.

‘Yeah, no fucking clown is coming near you again, well except for uncle Stan then of course. He gets a pass.’

Uncle Stan dishes out no jab, inevitably inciting more terror in Emma, who whimpers and hides behind the shield her dads form around her.

The night ends with a sleepover all the losers join in on, each and every one committed to creating a safe space for Emma, and if that means killing Pennywise again, then so be it.


End file.
